Witchcraft
by SlytherinSnake6886
Summary: Norway, his held still held high and as indifferent as ever, was being tied to the stake to be burned. His crime? Witchcraft.


It was time. The day was here. The day that none of them expected to happen.

Norway, his held still held high and as indifferent as ever, was being tied to the stake to be burned. His crime? Witchcraft.

Sweden and Finland simply could not stop crying enough to leave their homes, leaving Denmark and Iceland alone to watch him die in a most painful, agonizing way.

None of them thought that he would be discovered as a sorcerer. He was so careful that the very thought seemed ridiculous!

But, as he sat in the woods with Iceland, trying to heal a wound his little brother had gotten, a huntsman had come passing by, and, upon seeing the blue color of the Norwegian's magic, he ran off, shouting "Witch! In the woods! Gather everyone for a burning."

Denmark was trying to stay strong, if only for Iceland and Norway's sake, but he couldn't help the multiple tears that fell from his tear ducts, leaving miniature rivers going down his face. He sniffed, wiping at them, but they couldn't stop flowing no matter how hard he tried.

Iceland was in no better condition. When Norway was accused and he was called as a witness, he tried with all he could to explain how he was helping to heal the Icelander, but the townspeople were having none of it. They would have burned him, as well, had they had anything to use against him.

Iceland cried and cried in hours leading up to the burning that he had none left to shed. He simply was dry sobbing as the Dane hugged him, knowing there was nothing he could say to calm the poor nation.

Norway, despite having things thrown at and cutting him slightly and Death fast approaching, did not flinch nor cry nor do anything. He followed a random person with his hands bound, merely blinking every so often as normal.

"We have gathered today in order to burn and dispose of this vile sorcerer. Lukas Bondevik has been found guilty of performing witchcraft on another person, despite the claim that he was trying to help. Witchcraft cannot help in any circumstance; it only will cause pain and dread. That is why we must burn the witch! Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" The crowd started raising their fists in the air, children's high shrieks of laughter along with the adults angry chantings of "burn the witch" echoed throughout what felt like the entirety of Norway. The country, and the personification.

Of course, Denmark and Iceland both knew he'd come back soon, alive and healthy. They knew, but knowing does not lessen the pain of losing one so close to you. Iceland would lose his brother, and, despite how he refuses being so close to him, loves him with everything he has, for he is still family. Denmark, despite Norway seeming to hate him, absolutely adored Norway. Well, in the sense of family, really, but nevertheless, he still loves Norway with all his soul, and to both of them, it feels like a piece of their souls are burning with him.

Despite Norway's blank expression, he felt like he would break down and cry at any time now. Cautiously, he chanced a look to the two nations in the crowd, looking so heartbroken that it seemed as if they had shattered on the inside.

Norway let one tear well up in his eye, before blinking it away. _I can't cry in front of these. . . heathens, _the Norwegian man thought. _It would give them satisfaction that they don't deserve_.

So he looked straight ahead instead, and soon found himself unable to keep a sneer off of his face as the nameless and nondescript man addressed the crowd with lies of how witchcraft can only harm, never heal.

Before he could hide the facial expression, it was slapped clean away by a woman standing near him, obviously about to tie him to the pole if the rope in her hands was anything to go by.

When the crowd had calmed mostly after the shouting and cheering (or, in Denmark and Iceland's case, crying), the man turned to the crowd once again.

"We will, out of kindness that this _creature _does not deserve, give him his last words." He turned to Norway, who was now bound to the pole.

"What will they be, witch?"

Norway took a deep, calming breath, then looked at the Dane in the crowd.

"I say to Mathias, I realize that I was not as kind to you as I should have been, but it was how I expressed that I care and. . . and l-love you." The word felt foreign to him, a concept he never really had thought of. Of course, he meant it as one would say to their parent or sibling, but it still felt unbelievably difficult to say.

Turning to look at the Icelander, he said "Lillebror, I know I act as an annoyance more than a brother, and that you may dislike me for it, but it's because I'm worried that you'll just stop needing me around, and you leave me and not come back. I. . . love you, too."

As the words left his mouth, the crowd was looking at both Mathias and Emil with a mix of contempt and apology, but mostly a blank look.

"Now that you have said your final words, the burning may. . . Begin!" And with that, the two nations worlds fell down in flames. They don't really remember what happened, they were too encased in their own sorrow to care. Denmark felt like killing each and every one of the people gathered here, and he didn't care of the consequences. Hell, if he had told Iceland, he probably would have gone with it, eager to exact revenge upon those around him. For now, they sat near the charred remains of Norway, their tears having been completely shed many minutes ago.

They sat for what felt like hours, then took the ashes to his home just outside the same woods he was found in.

They sat and only moved for the bathroom for what felt like eons, but was just barely two months. Finland and Sweden had come by, tears tracked on their faces, and tried to force them to eat, but they would refuse. Finally, with worried looks, the Finn and the Swede left.

A month later, the two nations woke up to find the Norwegian in the middle of them, passed out, but alive.

They cried tears of joy, waking Norway up. They tackled him in a hug, and he remembered, then smiled as well, though it almost looked as if he'd forgotten how to.

"Eldri bróðir!" Iceland exclaimed, not even caring that he'd called him his older brother.

"NORGE!" Denmark shouted, squeezing Norway so tightly it looked as though he'd explode.

That night, they all invited Finland and Sweden over for a feast fit for the family they were.


End file.
